


Heart of Ice

by RichelieusCats



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry I wrote this, Pining, Tarkin's awful but I have a crush on Peter Cushing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichelieusCats/pseuds/RichelieusCats
Summary: The enigmatic and ambitiously driven Grand Moff Tarkin is the most loathsome being in the Galaxy. His grip on planetary systems and unrelenting cruelty is well known. You are resolved in having nothing to do with him, but, when certain events fling you in situations you can barely comprehend. You are forced to re-evaluate your entire moral compass and perhaps finds something that you had been searching for.
Relationships: Wilhuff Tarkin/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 64





	1. Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers, 
> 
> I wrote this in the early hours of the morning, and, I fully blame Mallorn for this (go and read their stuff). I know Tarkin is an awful person with virtually no moral compass, and, I hope the conflict that the reader feels is fully compatible with this fic. Please do comment, I have virtually no idea on where I am going with this. So any help would be welcomed. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy,  
> RichelieusCats.

The Grand Moff seemed to have an all-encompassing presence on the Death Star, his brutal if efficient complacency to the Empire matched with his fanatic loyalty led to many cadets such as yourself to have a skewed opinion of him, formed by orderlies and colleagues. He terrified you so much that your hands shook when he was even in your vicinity. It seemed irrational that he had such an effect on you. Usually, you were a good judge of character and gave a person a chance before basing such an observation. But you had to admit something unsettling was hidden in the murky depths of his eyes. He emanated a coldness which was not unlike the frozen planes of Hoth, as if all the warmth had been sucked from the room. You were not stupid, whenever something or someone frightened you to such an extent you avoided it at all costs. You had very little contact with Tarkin, instead, you hid away on one of the engineering platforms. 

But then something strange occurred, you had been sent for in the middle of the night by the Governor. At first, you froze trying rapidly to think to all the times that you might have had interactions with him that it could relate to. Finally, summoning enough courage you walked out into the chilly corridor with nothing but an old shirt, and a pair of shorts to keep you warm. Your bare feet slapped against the smooth floor, as you hurried towards Tarkin’s private quarters, thankfully praising the Gods that one of the Imperial officers had noted it to a group of engineers. Finally skidding to a halt, you hesitated slightly before knocking, your hands trembling with anxiety and fear. But, you feared the consequences if you made him wait. You knocked gently on the door, aware of the echo that resonated throughout the hallway. Almost immediately the door swung open, and, your eyes boggled as you beheld Tarkin, who was dressed the most informally you had ever seen him. Swathed in blue silk pyjamas and a matching dressing gown, his bare feet covered in slippers as if to remind you that you had run here with barely any foot protection. Staring, at you for a full minute Tarkin’s almost menacing baritone curled around you, almost simultaneous with a gust of ice-cold wind that blew into your direction making you shiver pitifully; 

“Come inside. “The Grand Moff, you mused, was never one for pleasantries. His brusque words, which you had never heard raised, but those quiet mummers were carried out with the utmost importance. 

You stepped past him into the room, and, we're almost surprised that you were met with a blast of warm air, you had half-imagined that icicles would be hanging from the ceiling. Looking around, you noted that it was sparsely furnished as if he had barely spent much time within the confines. Wearily, you watched as Tarkin’s profile came into view from the shadows; 

“I have heard from some of my staff, that you are very affectionate. Is that correct?” 

Tarkin’s voice resonated menacingly within the small confines of his room. You suddenly wondered if being overly-affectionate with your friends was an Imperial offence but then you again you wondered why would the Governor be concerned with this, surely one of the officers would deal with minor infractions it hardly warranted this level of scrutiny. You hands balled into fists so tightly, trying to construct an answer that wouldn’t land you floating into space:

“Yes Sir.” 

Tarkin’s silver eyes that had always looked past you in either superiority or indifference, suddenly burned into yours with an intensity that you had never seen before: 

“Would you be willing, to provide me with such an amenity?” 

The words were softly spoken, it almost felt as if they were hardly meant for your ears. You remembered that your mouth gaping open at your Commanding Officer would not be warranted, so you forced your face to contort into one of impassivity. Grand Moff Tarkin the most fearsome being in the Imperial Empire, save from Darth Vader and the Emperor himself had just asked you, a lowly commoner for a hug. If you weren’t so petrified, you could have almost laughed in his face. But, you were well aware that the Governor was not prone to practical jokes. Thinking of something to say, without attempting to run out of his room as if the hounds of hell were on your tail. You hesitantly replied: 

“If that is what you wish, sir.”Those quiet affirmative words seemed loud in the implacable silence of Tarkin’s rooms. You were proud that you had neither stuttered or wavered in your response, any glimpse of weariness and Tarkin would have probably shelved the whole episode as fanciful. 

You stared straight ahead barely ahead, not daring to move a muscle. You resisted the impulse to initiate contact, Tarkin in your mind was an unknown quantity. Your other friends who you showered affection on, were easier to read and far more approachable. The ticking of the clock and the up-down sensation of your breathing was the only constant that signified that this was not a dream that you would suddenly wake up from;

“Come here.”Tarkin’s voice cut through the tense silence, almost like one of the Jedi’s lightsabers blistering in the air with its force. 

As if you were not even in control of your body, your legs moved heavy with stress and unease to where he was standing, you were surprised by the warmth that was emanating from him almost seductive in the way it drew you in: like a moth to a flame. The distinct smell of lavender and something that was distinctly Tarkin filled your senses almost dizzying you with its potency. Your head barely reached his chest, and, you ended up staring at the buttons on his shirt, willing for some deity to step in to tell you what to do. The silence between you was defeaning so much so that you could hear your own heart pounding in your ears, your palms gathering sweat in obscene quantities and you resisted the urge to wipe them on your shorts. Gathering your courage, and, praying that you weren’t signing your death warrant. You managed to wrap your hands around Tarkin’s waist and planted your face within the silkiness of his pyjama top, the buttons almost jutting into your face. You were trembling slightly as your chilled body was surrounded by immense heat, Tarkin seemed to radiate a warmth that you could drown in. Your confused notions of propriety and Tarkin’s ever-changing morality code that you couldn’t quite keep up with fled as you breathed in his scent, which in startling contrast to his character calmed you immensely. You held him in a loose embrace, uncertain that he would want to retain this contact more than he had to, and, even shove you off if he so chose. Finally, the tell-tale rustle of clothing made itself apparent to your ears and you wondered if you were going to be told to leave. But, he caught you in surprise again. Tarkin returned your hug hesitantly as if he had forgotten that such a thing existed, his wiry arms tugged you flush against him in an almost indecent manner. The hug lasted far longer than was usually permissible, it was almost as if the two of you had forgotten that time existed or that a lowly engineer was not meant to even breath in the same space as a Grand Moff. 

However, you felt that it was time that you let go, it was not long before you would be up for your shift and the unusual situation you had inexplicably found yourself would replay unrelentingly in your mind. You gently pushed up. Tarkin’s hands removed themselves hurridly from your body as if had been burned, and, you almost yearned to be back within his arms but quashed the idea as fantastical. Taking a step backwards you almost had to catch yourself, as you were overwhelmed by a bout of relief and tingles radiated throughout your body. Waiting silently, for Tarkin to dismiss you – you barely looked within his vicinity fearing the expression that would inevitably occur on his face:  
  
“Leave.” That one word brusquely given held cold impassivity that almost seemed to be synonymous with the cold façade that you associated with the cold Governor. 

You stumbled over a farewell and then fled into the empty hallways, almost slipping with your haste to leave the Governer's room and to find some semblance of sleep. 


	2. Starved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Tarkin seem infinitely closer, although barely any words are spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, 
> 
> I've been struggling with this chapter, not of the writing of it: the editing. So I hope you enjoy it 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos, it means a lot to me that people like this story. Please comment if you can. 
> 
> Thanks, 
> 
> RichelieusCats.

The night seemed endless. 

It was as if you were reliving those scant moments, in microscopic detail. His palms were sweltering hot against the thin fabric of your shirt, encasing you within his personal space barely a hair's breadth between you. 

It had reopened old wounds, something you tried desperately to deny. But you were resigned to the aching reality that your body ached for physical contact. Coming from a loving family, whose affectionate nature was intrinsic within the family unit, your parents surrounded you with affection that made you yearn for their presence. The sensation of your mother pulling you into a hug, her arms anchoring you into place and your Father’s scraping kisses in your hair made you tremble in memory. 

In their absence, you filled it with work and your colleagues. They made you forget that craving for an embrace, that ironically Tarkin seemed to rekindle in you. Not that you saw the Governor as a parental figure, although he was old enough to be one. He was not remotely parental, but that feeling of holding someone infinitely close without the dawning necessity that you would have to let go as propriety demanded was too much for your sleep-deprived brain. Your friends didn’t understand your need for pure physical contact, although they indulged you. You hadn’t thought that it was unusual but judging by Tarkin’s assessment it seemed that it was. It was something you had discussed during a psychiatric exam, but they had chalked it up to the absence of parental figures. You held your arms across your body almost in replication hoping that it would bring you some comfort and closure as you fell asleep.

If anybody had asked you whether you were waiting for another summons, you would have vehemently denied it. At best, Tarkin had wanted you as a mere distraction or someone that would offer comfort but leave no ties or demands on his person. At worst, he was waiting for an opportunity to exploit your weakness, and you thought him capable, of using it against you either professionally or personally. But no summons came and you could not decide whether you were relieved or disappointed. Indeed, your contact with Tarkin remained as if it had never changed, you barely saw glimpses of him. Although, there was enough gossip to fuel overactive imaginations. Due to his enigmatic and chilly persona, the Grand Moff was often the subject of wild speculation almost mythic in their ability to persuade naïve members of the crew of their validity. It was almost a rite of passage of new crew members to be indulged with tales of Tarkin’s almost inhuman ability of hand-to-hand combat, or that he had a dozen mistresses dotted around the solar system. They all seemed utterly ridiculous or virtually implausible. 

Days turned into weeks and you had begun to relax especially around other crew members who seemed to have sensed your uneasiness and almost extreme anxiety. But it seemed that life continued as normal, the bleak darkness of space seemed to envelop any notion of time and you lived for the daily predictability of life. You had got back to your quarters after a gruelling day of calculations that seemed to have gone nowhere, and emotions had been running high before the chief engineer had called it a day. The bed looked enticing, beckoning you seductively, changing into your sleepwear you had barely turned off the lights before your comm went summoning you to the Grand Moff’s quarters. 

Uncharacteristically, you were less disturbed by this then you would have been if you were in the right frame of mind. Rubbing your eyes, you stumbled your way to Tarkin’s quarters in an absurd sense of familiarity. The door opened as you approached, and you snuck into the room before anybody noticed. The room was dimmed, and you looked around wearily, almost expecting the Governor to jump out at you. His quarters remained eerily bare, without any ray of light. Stepping forward you passed into his bedroom, you had expected that a person of Tarkin's rank would rest in comfort. But, to your disappointment, he had a standard bed that you had in your room. Finding him sprawled across one side you tiredly tried to work out what Tarkin wanted, you briefly thought about using the couch but you heard a low mummer of “Bed” echoed from across the room. Longing to just sleep and sick of obsessing over the Governer’s intentions honourable or otherwise. You slipped under the covers; the sheets shifted under you warm against your chilled skin. Tarkin had turned over, as if your compliance with his order had soothed him back to sleep, your only glimpse was of his pyjama covered back, a wall that inescapably blocked you from getting too close, or letting your emotions take over. Your eyes drifted closed almost unwillingly as you were lulled to sleep by Tarkin’s gentle breaths. 

It was disconcerting that this was the best sleep you had since you left the safety of your parents. Usually, you would stare up at the ceiling and hope that sleep would embrace you in its familiar hold. Unwilling to break this anomaly within your routine you snuggled closer into the pillow ignoring the uneasiness flaring in your stomach. The next time you woke up, it was to the shock of warmth that was pressed against you, confused you opened your eyes. Trying to stifle a shout, your face was barely inches away from the Grand Moff, gulping involuntarily you assessed your current position. You were lying atop of the Grand Moff, you were a restless sleeper so it would have not been unusual for you to have rolled to his side unconsciously seeking comfort from your bedmate, during the night. Your arms clutched his shoulders pressing your nose into the crook of his neck, one of his arms was thrown across you’re back keeping you in place. It reminded of you when you were little, you snuck into your parent's room wanting the safety of their embrace to take you away from dreams that seemed to plague your child world. The invisible monsters, or the stories you were often told, morality tales on planets which you could barely comprehend. Your Father was your one source of comfort during these terrors, burrowing into his chest he held you tightly against him, anchoring you into the reality of this world. 

In your mind, it was almost sickening that you were comforted by Tarkin’s embrace however unconsciously done. But you knew that if he woke up and saw you taking such liberties with him, that your time aboard the Death Star and the good opinion of your friends would be lost to censure and hostility. Praying that he would remain asleep, you tried to slip free of his embrace. As if sensing your discomfort, Tarkin moaned something unintelligible tightened his arm around you his legs clamping you so you could not escape. Almost sobbing with fear, you tried to steady your breathing, and tried to once again relax and hope that the Governor would view this as an incident as one that would occur if two people were sharing a bed. Frankly, your shy nature and your inability to hold eye contact with someone of a senior rank made you unwilling to look at your superiors in the face. You had heard of some ambitious colleagues viewing you as haughty or disinterested, but the truth was you were intensely shy. To see Tarkin in this unthinkable light made you greedily explore the contours of his face, it was almost sacrilegious viewing the Governor in this way, the harsh cheekbones and lines that had deepened with age and stress had softened even the cruel curve of his mouth seemed to have relaxed; he had thin lips which you had seen either curled in malicious glee or an innate smugness. They could hardly be viewed as plump or kissable, yet you felt an inexplicable urge to find out what they would feel like against yours. 

Your heart raced, pounding so hard you found it absurd that Tarkin hadn’t woken up. Swallowing shyly, you thought that it wouldn’t hurt to touch him just to see if he was as of the same flesh and blood as you. Shakily, one of your fingertips stroked his cheek, feeling the soft skin burn you with its softness your hand trailed down almost against your will to the strong line of his jaw almost brushing the indent of his chin. You stilled as Tarkin let out a small sigh whether of annoyance or contentment you could not yet tell, but he had made no move to remove your hand from his person. Growing bolder by the lack of response, your finger brushed against the hard line of his mouth. He must have licked them during the night, as moisture gathered on your finger. Instead of being disgusted, you found it to be ridiculously arousing. Holding your breath, you waited for your superior’s eyes to open, the ice-cold eyes pinning you to the spot without the need for vocalisation to instil terror in his subjects. You could feel the beats of your heart through your body in a steady tandem, your mental beratement heightening your innate anxiety. A movement caught your eyes, and you watched in utter amazement as the Governor groggily lifted your finger from his mouth, and placed a slobby kiss on your palm, his stubble grazing your wrist. Believing that he was acting out a fantasy of somebody else, you argued to yourself that he wouldn’t have even recognised your existence, nonetheless, it had been a long time since somebody had been so close to you and the sensation of that warm kiss lingering on your palm, you held your fingers around it clinging to the remaining sensation. Feeling trapped and guilty at of the imposition you settled back to sleep, bathing in the safety of being held even if it was just for this one time.


	3. Jeleously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new transfer into the engineering department causes you to re-evaluate your choices. However, Tarkin makes his claim known,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> I'm really sorry about the tardiness of this chapter, it's taken me so long to finish and I don't really know if I'm happy with it. I think, it's better than it was but please let me know what you think. I really hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Best wishes:   
> RichelieusCats.

You had always been jealous of the happy nature of relationships. In your teenage years, the nuances of such a coupling were lost in a wave of unfulfilled longing: the sloppy kisses behind the starships and quick fumbling in the dark were spoken about in hushed whispers between groups of girls that had seemed to reach the pinnacle of their femininity. But you always seemed detached from that unreachable reality that your peers craved, you had wondered if you were the source of the problem. Your crippling shyness and obliviousness to flirtation made you seem arrogant and self-assured. Indeed, you hardly exuded sexual attraction your features were neither delicate nor refined, your clumsy stumbling over words and inability to initiate small talk had often made you the butt of jokes, and, a perpetual wallflower on the dating scene. 

It seemed that Tarkin transcended life's trials. You were under no illusion that the Governor viewed you as little less than human. To a person as powerful and influential in the Empire, you were expendable. But, the time you had spent in his bed had been impossible to ignore. You ached with longing to remember how your body was pressed inexplicably to his, lulling you to sleep by the beats of his heart and the soft puffs of breath against your scalp. A blush rose in your cheeks, at his unadulterated response to your touch; which for the first time made you feel desired even if it was an unconscious reaction on his part. You felt yourself, against your will falling deeper into a whirl of tranquillity and safety. Waking up from that facade had provided you with a douse of cold clarity. The surrealism of that morning was embedded in your brain, and, it still caused you embarrassment. Waking up in a bed that was clearly not your own, with your bedmate absent almost as if you had dreamt Tarkin from the recesses of your own fevered imagination. The only hint of what had passed the night before was a pair of blue pyjamas that were folded neatly on a pillow, the other side of the bed had barely slept in as if the night that you recalled in excruciating detail had barely occurred. 

Insomnia dogged your nights, you started to dread when your shift inevitably ended. You spent the hours entangled in the bedsheets, unable to sleep, the cold seeping into your limbs from lack of warmth. You spent your days taking scalding hot showers and cuddling your pillow in a cheap imitation of the Governor’s figure. But nothing seemed to relieve that ache that furled in your chest, the usual pats on the back and cheerful hugs when the work had been done at a sufficient time, made you stiffen with distress. To add further into the swirling mess that surrounded you, a new transfer to the engineering team had interrupted your carefully ordered world. A surprise change to the predictability of your existence made you increasingly on edge. It seemed to you, that Oscano was clearly a highflier, on the verge of insurmountable greatness and clearly not the lowering depths of the Imperial Engineering Department. His Appolic features and gentlemanly manners entranced the whole station. In a matter of days, he had the lower ranking engineers scurrying at his beck and call, grovelling obscenely when giving him a piece of equipment or giggling ludicrously when he flattered them. But to everyone's amazement, including your own, Oscano paid great attention to you. He seemed to follow you everywhere, your shadows mingling as you tried to block out his presence in your life and devotedly concentrate on your work. He regaled you with stories about his homeland and family, although clearly not wealthy Oscano was not without privilege or status. He asked impulsive questions about your background, which he didn’t seem to require an answer to. His familiarity with you caused a stir in the gossip mill, and, you had become the very thing you had sought to avoid. 

Popularity. 

Rumours spilt over your relationship status, and the glaring reality that you had never been connected to anyone while being in the Imperial Navy fuelled speculations into your “tragic” past. Oscano’s easiness with affection had also caused a stir. His casual touch at the small of your back or feather-light brushes to your arm, had your friends gathering around you with brightness in their faces. Wishing you every happiness, with a perfect man who would treat you like a Princess. You wondered if collective blindness was common, their inability to see how uncomfortable and helpless you were. Both with Oscano and Tarkin, the veneer of control had been taken through Oscano's arrogance and Tarkin's self-assuredness. However, Oscano's doggedness and inability to be put off no matter how many times you ignored him or pulled away rubbed off on you. Gradually, you warmed up to him, your colleagues usual topic of interest was usually himself but the tales he spun of his escapades and his enthusiasm was infectious and you felt a small smile on your features as you looked at him. He started sitting with you at mealtimes, to the exclusion of other available and much prettier women. One incident you belatedly recalled, was in the Cafeteria the loud clanging of pots and the raucous laughing had made you nervous. Your introverted nature crying out helplessly against the barrage of noise, you could barely hear Oscano through it. Suddenly, you jolted as a warm palm covered yours that was clinging to the table. His finger gently moved across the top of your hand in a soothing motion, as if calming a skittish animal. It took you a moment to wonder if Oscano was too good to be true and if there was something sinister lurking behind that veneer of innocence. 

Fighting tiredness and utter bewilderment you finally made it back to your quarters. The halls were quiet, apart from the clipped tones of officers and some stragglers of Storm Troopers. Finally, you saw the door to your room. Your shoulders which had been bunched tight in stress began to loosen as you unlocked the door. Hurriedly, closing it you paused in shock as you saw Tarkin’s silhouette in the darkened room. He was stood facing the window, his reflection illuminated by the glass pane of the window so you had little doubt over his identity;

"G...Governor, Sir... I--I'm sorry, I hadn't realised y--ou were here." You winced as you stammered out a garbled obvious statement which sounded utterly ridiculous to your ears. 

Whether Tarkin had taken note of your stumbled ill-thought observation, was not evident. You walked slowly to the window, half wondering if Tarkin would turf you out from your own room, for daring to approach him. Reaching the window, your mouth opened involuntarily with surprise as a meteor shower rained in the distance. The brilliant sight made you forget your tiredness or companion as your eyes fixated on the scene. The hurtling meteors in the distance flashed by, the flaming tails streaking across the blackness of space. You had heard, of such things around the Station but not been able to witness it;

"A wonderful sight, is it not?" Tarkin's baritone filled the silence of the room, it's the gravelly tone unusually loud in your ears.

"It is, sir." You barely glanced in his direction your attention focused on the wondrous sight. Your hand on the cool pane of glass as if to capture it within your grasp, but as finite as your existence was so to was the meteor shower and it finished as swiftly as it started. 

You were determined to be brave, and, unwilling to part with Tarkin's company you reached for an excuse to have him stay:

"W-W-Would y-y-you like a d-d-d-drink, sir?" You cursed your inability to string a sentence together, and, half-imagined that Tarkin would refuse your offer both based on propriety and the non-existence of your rank would be an ill-thought move of any official;

"I would."

The quiet affirmative words shocked you into stillness and you gaped at Tarkin almost incomprehensibly. His only response was to tilt his head in expectation. Hurriedly acquiescing to his silent demand you busied yourself with preparing a drink that reminded you of home, it was enough to be busy and to focus on the task at hand rather than making yourself nervous by making small talk with your unexpected companion. Pouring the mixture into two cups, you pressed one into his outstretched hand. He nodded his thanks and his pink, thin lips pursed as he surveyed the drink almost wearily. You thought hysterically that he was sizing your capacity to poison him. But, he dutifully drank your meagre offering, his face changing into one of surprise. Companionable silence followed the slurps of liquid the only accompanying serenade to the evening. Drinking gave you something to focus on, while you racked your brain with something to say. You were saved that embarrassment as Tarkin's voice cut into your reverie;

"This is a peculiar drink, where did you learn to make it?" Tarkin's opening of a conversation made you less hesitant as you replied;

"It was a drink my parents made when I was a child. It has a unique taste, not everyone enjoys it." 

Gesturing to the table that was in the middle of the room, you busily sipped your drink not quite knowing the vein of the conversation that might follow;

"That young man in the engineering department seems to have settled in well. He seems rather popular among the crew, do you not agree?." 

You wondered whether this innocuous question had a much wider inference than it first seemed. You carefully considered your position, when Tarkin first approached you about this particular bargain there was very little mention of exclusivity; you noted that Tarkin could have an affair with another woman and you would be none the wiser. On the other hand, a man in Tarkin's position would demand that you would be available for his needs, regardless of your relationship status. Your silence did not bode well, the Governor's eyes sharpened to such a degree that reminded you of a sharp blade. Swallowing, you answered; 

"Yes, sir." 

Without any preamble, one of the Governor’s hands reached out as if to touch your face. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought that Tarkin’s patience had finally come to an end, and you flinched at the slap that was sure to come your way. You were not prepared for the gentle touch of tapered fingers on the plane of your face. He did not have soft hands which you would have expected of a dignitary unused to the toil of everyday living. Instead, his rough calluses scraped your skin, as if to remind you that this was not an unconscious fantasy which you were unable to suppress in the brief purgatory moments of waking and sleeping. You had never been so close to a man before in your life, save your Father. Every momentary detail was ingrained in your mind, the unexpected hint of the Governor’s cologne mixed with the intoxicating scent of lavender that saturated the air. His face which had once been an appropriate distance, now, was a mere hair's breadth away. To have Tarkin’s undivided attention was no mere thing, and, even though only a couple of words had been spoken through this encounter, there seemed to be much more that was being said without the need for verbalisation. Time inexplicably passed in a parody of a tableau, you could see the speckles of different colours in his eyes. You wondered if you should break the stalemate when the breath was knocked out of you. 

Within the privacy of your bed, you wondered what Tarkin’s lips would feel like, how he would taste. The reality was far different, Tarkin kissed with as much finesse as he worked, ruthless and calculating. His lips were hard against yours, unyielding to the barest amount of reciprocation. You were unable to control any element of the kiss, to the point where you were a passive recipient. As if conscious of your increasing passivity, Tarkin made a muffled noise and brought your arms to rest against his chest. Cautiously, approaching Tarkin as if he would snap at you for the meerest slip, your hand smoothed over the material of the Governor’s uniform, brushing against the metal tag that denoted his rank. Your fingers grazed Tarkin's face, as you finally sunk your fingers into the thinning grey hair. These unexpected touches seemed to tilt Tarkin off-kilter, and you had an opportunity to kiss him back as you had wanted. Your kiss was far more gentle, it seemed for once your roles were reversed. Even though you had limited experience in kissing men, the hushed whispers of your friends about technique and breathing had rubbed off on you. Although you had taken control of the kiss, Tarkin seemed hardly fazed by your uncharacteristic feat of boldness. 

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. 

Pulling on the grey silky strands with growing desperation, you tried futilely to wrench Tarkin closer. After a few moments, Tarkin broke the kiss. Your breathing came out in shallow pants, you itched to look at the Governor’s face. You let your eyes rake over Tarkin’s appearance, you saw Tarkin in dishabille, the strands of his hair were displaced from their usual place, his lips were wet and swollen from kissing. But most shockingly you noted, was his eyes. Tarkin’s piercing grey orbs had evaporated into pools of lust. He was staring at you with undisguised desire, letting something out you thought resembled a growl, the Governor hauled you off your seat onto his lap. Your hands scrabbled at the new position, finally settling on Tarkin’s shoulders. The warmth radiating from Tarkin surrounded you with its potency, you had to suppress the urge to smother the Governor with affection. So that he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t go like everyone else. But he would, you knew that. You were expendable, a plaything. But, you could pretend in these few precious moments that Wilhuff Tarkin Grand Moff of the Imperial Empire wanted you. 

Without the courtesy of a warning, you were being kissed again. Although less frantic than the time before, Tarkin’s soft moans and the accompanying wet smack of lips made you flush a deep red with arousal and intense embarrassment. You shuffled further on Tarkin's lap. The Governor’s response was immediate, he held your hips in place, his fingers painfully digging into your sides. Your first thought was that he was going to push you off his lap, it took a moment to realise that Tarkin was hard. Panic and fear filtered through you, this experience had already been overwhelming. This was your first time with anybody, even though your body burned with curiosity, to see what he felt like underneath those layers. Glancing at Tarkin, you saw that the Governor was too far gone to form a rational argument. Mummering something intelligibly, Tarkin moved your hand and placed it on the bulge in his pants. It seemed that the decision was made. You hardly could leave him in such a state. Your hand shook as you opened the placket of his trousers, gripping hot bare flesh. Your throat was dry and your palms sweaty from stress and anxiety, but although you fumbled in pleasuring the Governor. He seemed to enjoy it. He was bucking up into your hand, and you, watched with rapt attention at the vein popping at the side of Tarkin’s head, the way sweat dripped from his brow into the creases of flesh. You leaned into his space, burrowing yourself into his neck. You didn’t know whether it was the kiss to his exposed neckline or rather the wicked twist of your hand or a combination of both. With a violent thrust of his hips, Tarkin spilt over your hand. After a period of stunned silence, it was only intercepted by the punctuated sound of harsh breathing. He removed you from his person while he righted himself. If you had expected any sort of afterglow or pleasure from Tarkin, you were sadly mistaken. He swept you off his lap, toppling you onto the floor with a thud, you fought the urge to cry out in pain in blatant contrast to the pleasure he had received from your own hand. Without pausing to help you up, the Governor walked past you as if those few surreal moments had never occurred. In his mind you were a tool, to be used and discarded at will. You felt used and vulnerable, you watched as the Governor retreated into the corridor without a word or a glance. Your throat felt immediately tight, with overwhelming panic that seemed to take hold of you. Just breathing became more painful. All you could see was Tarkin's retreating back: He was gone, not that it mattered. You already knew that he would.


End file.
